


The draw of dreams

by sylvermyth



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fantasy AU, Physical Abuse, Time Travel, Witches, escaping abuse, overcoming abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvermyth/pseuds/sylvermyth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miss Larxene and Mister Marluxia had taken her in readily enough, and they’d been gracious to her. Kind. At first. It had happened so gradually that she didn’t notice until it was too late. A sharp word over a small matter, until one word became a torrent of them, and then one day, the words were punctuated by blows. Not that anyone would’ve known, with the layers of petticoats that fashion decreed she wear, and long sleeves covering the bruises on her arms, and even if they had, who would care? She had no one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The draw of dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first (of two or three?) fic for the [@kh-worldsconnected](http://kh-worldsconnected.tumblr.com) event on tumblr. There's an accompanying art by [@keybaes,](http://keybaes.tumblr.com) too!
> 
>  

“Namine.” Larxene’s voice was as sharp as a knife, and the sound of it made Namine cringe as she turned to face her guardian. “Fix your dress. You’re here to look pretty, and you’re doing a poor job of it.”  
  
Namine ducked her head. “Yes, Miss Larxene.” She glanced down at her full skirts, adjusting the folds under Larxene’s scrutiny. She had, perhaps, gotten them to lay correctly, and she looked to Larxene for approval. Instead, Larxene’s hand shot out, grabbing Namine’s chin in a rough hold and digging her fingers in, not enough to bruise, but roughly enough.  
  
“Do not forget, girl, that you are here because of our good graces. So you had better do as we say, and nothing else. Understand?” Poisonous green eyes bored into her, and it took an effort not to flinch away.  
  
“Yes, Miss Larxene.” Satisfied, Larxene released Namine as abruptly as she’d grabbed her.  
  
Namine had only recently come under the care of Miss Larxene and Mister Marluxia. Before that, she had little memory, as if her life had started the moment she’d stepped over the threshold to their manor. She supposed, perhaps, she’d come from somewhere else, that she hadn’t simply sprung into being, but she had no proof.  
  
Miss Larxene and Mister Marluxia had taken her in readily enough, and they’d been gracious to her. Kind.  
  
At first.  
  
It had happened so gradually that she didn’t notice until it was too late. A sharp word over a small matter, until one word became a torrent of them, and then one day, the words were punctuated by blows. Not that anyone would’ve known, with the layers of petticoats that fashion decreed she wear, and long sleeves covering the bruises on her arms, and even if they had, who would care? She had no one.  
  
At night she cowered under the covers of her narrow bed, as if that could prevent the abuse. It didn’t, of course, and sometimes Mister Marluxia crept into her room at night, his presence making her skin crawl, and she dreaded the day that he might do more than just _look_ at her. Sometimes, she couldn’t sleep until morning, she was so anxious.  
  
When sleep did come, it was peppered with dreams.  
  
In them, she saw worlds beyond her imagination. Places that teemed with living shadows, and places that glowed with light, places with animals that spoke, and places with horseless carriages and ships that traveled amongst the stars. A boy with a key, and the hearts that nestled next to his own.  
  
And sometimes she saw herself.  
  
In her dreams, Namine had power. Magic. She could move between the worlds, and could piece together or tear apart memories as she liked. The knowledge was in her, and when she was awake, she thought maybe she could do it in truth. That maybe, with a little magic, she could fly away to one of those worlds, anywhere, as long as it was far away from Miss Larxene and Mister Marluxia.  
  
But she wouldn’t dare.  
  
She wouldn’t dare, and instead she snuck quills and scraps of paper into her room and put her dreams in drawings. Rolling countrysides and rigid cityscapes, the boy of light, and the living shadows, horseless carriages and ships that traveled amongst the stars.  
  
Except she couldn’t hide the drawings forever, and nor could she bring herself to destroy them, because if she did, the dreams, the worlds, would be nothing but scraps of paper fluttering to the floor. Even the best hiding places will be found, eventually.  
  
It was an early morning, when she was still lacing her corset, that Miss Larxene barged into the room, to check on her ward, and Namine hadn’t set the floorboard in quite straight. Larxene’s eyes, sharp as ever, noticed. Namine saw her notice, and waited, but there was only a small, evil smile on the woman’s lips, and Namine was told to hurry up and get dressed and come down to greet their visitor.  
  
So she waited next to Miss Larxene, demure as ever. She resettled her skirts once more, for good measure, and when she looked up again, Mister Marluxia was introducing a gentleman visitor.  
  
Namine froze.  
  
She recognized him, not from her life in the manor, but from her dreams. He had silvery hair, and amber eyes, and though his clothing was a la mode, her mind superimposed the image of a long black coat, hooded, meant to traverse through corridors of darkness. Namine tensed, fear coursing through her, and without realizing it, she backed up, eyes wide, until her back met the solid resistance of the wall, and then she pressed into that, as if she could go through it, shaking her head.  
  
Miss Larxene was already rounding on her, her mouth cruel with some rebuke, but all Namine could hear was a rush of wind in her ears, and when Larxene drew a hand to strike her, Namine put a palm out to block it, as if that could stop it, when it never had before.  
  
But the blow never landed.  
  
It wasn’t blocked, it wasn’t stopped, it just _never came_ , and Namine was stumbling backwards, then falling, plummeting, and she thought maybe she was drowning in the water that surrounded her suddenly, but then the water turned into birds, all taking off at once, with feathers raining down on her, soft and light.  
  
And then she landed.  
  
She came to her feet gently, her skirts settling with a susurrus. Namine put out a hand, groping for anything to steady herself as she caught her bearings; she was met with the coarseness of stone, and she braced her arm against it tentatively.  
  
She was no longer in Miss Larxene and Mister Marluxia’s parlor, though she’d already suspected that. In fact, she was now outdoors, in an alley, stone buildings on either side, the ground below her packed dirt, and the sky above a vivid cerulean streaked with clouds. The buzz of laughter and conversation filtered from beyond the alley’s opening, and with it, the smells of cooked meats and pastries.  
  
She had done it. She didn’t know how she’d done it, but she’d—what? _Magicked_ herself away? Like in her dreams? _Had she gone to another world?_  
  
She slumped against the wall, chest heaving, eyes wide, suddenly scared in a way that had nothing to do with the threat of being hit. She’d never been anywhere by herself before, let alone anywhere beyond her sleepy village. What if—? She shook her head. No. Anything was better than where she’d been. With a deep breath, she steeled herself and straightened, as much as she could, though she could still feel the defensive tension in her shoulders.  
  
But she stepped forward. It took some effort to convince herself to do it, to ignore the inkling of fear that somehow, some way, they had followed her, because something else told her that they wouldn’t be able to. One step at a time, until she stood at the mouth of the alley.  
  
She was greeted with the sight of throngs of people, vendors and tents, musicians and dancing. It was a fair, she realized, and at the same moment, that she hadn’t left her own world, after all. There was a little disappointment at that, but it was fleeting. It was enough that she was somewhere else. She skirted the edges of the crowds, taking it all in.  
  
The faces of the people here were open, honest. Happy. Namine thought she had been happy once, but it was so long ago. She took a long, deep breath, taking in their happiness, and letting it lift her own lips into a small smile. Better adjusted to her surroundings, they began to come into sharper focus, the crowd becoming individuals, and—.  
  
Namine did a double-take.  
  
On closer inspection, she saw that, while many people were dressed in a fashion she was used to, there were more than a few that…didn’t quite match what she was used to. The women’s dresses ranged from older fashions—decades older, at least—to some that she’d never seen or imagined before, the men in tunics and doublets that were gauche, at best. And then— _then_ , there were men and women with expanses of skin showing, well beyond what would be acceptable in polite company.  
  
Namine quickly averted her eyes from the soft curves of a woman’s bare stomach, feeling her face heat up in embarrassment.  
  
But it was a little exciting, she decided. Even if some of them were dressed oddly, they were all so happy. It was a feeling she wanted to make her own, and as she thought this, she heard the music. A bright, cheerful sound, notes rising and falling in quick succession, singing sweetly. The sound drew her, and she followed it, still avoiding people as well as she could, until she came in sight of its source.  
  
The violinist was dancing as she played, swaying and stepping in time to the music, the movements as fluid and graceful as the sound, and Namine was sure she’d never seen or heard anything quite so beautiful. Instead of skirts, the girl wore white breeches that emphasized the lines of her legs and complemented her short, black hair. And yet, she still wore a bodice, blue with golden embroidery, so that there was no mistaking her gender.  
  
The song, and its musician, pulled her forward, despite the people crowded around. There was something about it, and about the girl, that tugged at her memories—not the ones with Miss Larxene and Mister Marluxia, but the ones from her dreams—like the visitor that she’d fled from, but this time it didn’t fill her with dread. The joy expressed in the music didn’t line up with the half-impressions at the back of Namine’s mind, but the girl still smiled as she drew the bow over the strings of her instrument.  
  
The song ended too soon, but Namine joined the audience in applauding, her mouth wide in a smile that she’d thought was incapable of. She lingered, even after the crowd began to disburse, watching as the violinist packed up her instrument.  
  
The girl slung her violin case over a shoulder and, noticing Namine, offered a smile. “I hope you enjoyed the performance.”  
  
Namine dropped into a small curtsy and nodded, the sense of familiarity of this girl growing. “It was lovely.” She paused, still unsure of her surroundings, but so far she’d only seen open faces and happiness, so she ventured, “May I ask your name?”  
  
“It’s Xion.” Xion held a hand out; Namine bent and took it in her own, feigning a kiss, as she’d been taught. “Oh!” Xion giggled, urging Namine to straighten. “A handshake is fine, you know?”  
  
Namine blushed. “Oh, excuse me.”  
  
Xion smiled. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. And your name is…”  
  
“Namine.” She offered another curtsy. “Pleased to meet you.”  
  
Xion glanced down at her breeches-clad legs, shrugged, and gave a sweeping bow. “And you as well, Miss Namine.”  
  
“Uhm, Miss Xion…I feel like I know you. Have we met before?”  
  
Xion cocked her head, studying Namine. Her gaze was so intent that Namine drew into herself a little, reminded of Miss Larxene’s scrutiny, though Xion’s eyes were soft, with none of the sharpness Namine was accustomed to.  
  
After a moment, Xion lit up, and stepped close to Namine, her voice low in a conspiratorial whisper. “Miss Namine, I don’t think we’ve met before, but are you, by chance, a _witch_?”  
  
Namine blanched and took a step away, startled. She cast a panicked glance around them, looking to see if anyone had overheard. Perhaps she had gotten here by magic, but—had anyone seen? What would they do, if they knew? “Witches are—I’m not—”  
  
Xion frowned and lifted her palms up, placating. “It’s okay, this is a safe place.” She took in the tension that Namine still held, as if she was ready to run, and sighed, shaking her head. “Here, look.”  
  
Xion turned and plucked something from a nearby planter: a little cluster of tightly closed flower buds, and held it in front of her between two fingers. She made a motion with her other hand, and Namine felt it, the tiny burst of power that went into the plant and unfurled the petals in a spray of vivid blue.  
  
“See, it’s okay. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She took Namine’s hand in hers and drew her forward the handful of steps she’d taken back. “Why don’t you keep this,” she murmured, reaching up to tuck the flowers into Namine’s hair. “There, they suit you!” She smiled.  
  
Namine felt her face heating, and put a hand to feel where the flowers sat in her hair. There was still a little sense of power in them, and she wondered if she’d ever felt anything like it, other than in her dreams.  
  
“So,” Namine ventured, “Are _you_ a witch, then?”  
  
“Yeah. Not a very good one, I’m afraid.” She nodded at the flowers. “I still can’t do roses, you know?”  
  
“Oh.” Namine wasn’t sure what made roses different from the forget-me-nots she now donned, though she thought perhaps memory magic was a little harder to manipulate than roses. On the heels of that, she wondered where such a thought had come from. “I think…I might be a witch.” Her voice was quiet as she contemplated it.  
  
“Well, even if you aren’t, we could still be friends, right?”  
  
Namine gave a hesitant nod. “Yes, I think I would like that.”  
  
Xion beamed. “Good!” She scanned the crowd for a moment, glancing between it and Namine. “Are you here with some friends? I came with Roxas and Axel, but they’re off doing their own thing right now. Typical boys.” She rolled her eyes.  
  
Namine studied Xion, putting her dress and mannerisms in context with the rest of the setting, and it still didn’t quite make sense. She must’ve come to another world, then, after all.  
  
“You’re really a witch?” It was as much a statement as a question, as Namine came to a decision. “I…didn’t come here with anyone. I mean, I’m not sure _how_ I got here.” She adjusted a fold on her dress, giving it her full attention. “Wherever _here_ is.”  
  
Xion clapped her hands together. “Really? Did you get here with magic? Oh, wow, that’s so exciting!” She took Namine’s hand. “Location magic is really hard, I don’t know anyone else who can do it, I bet you’re a super powerful witch and you just didn’t want to admit it!” Namine bit her lip, watching Xion’s animated gestures as she continued. “Oh, wait, so are you lost? You dressed the part, so I never would’ve known. This is the Bristol Ren Faire. If you need help getting back, I’m sure we can help you.”  
  
Namine glanced down at her cream dress, not quite keeping up with Xion’s babble. “This is a day dress—no! I’m not going back.” There was a firmness in her voice that she didn’t recognize as her own, but she knew it was true. She wouldn’t go back.  
  
“Oh. Well, you don’t have to go back, but—” Xion was interrupted by a shrill ringing, and pulled something from her pocket, a rectangle of glass and metal that glowed when she touched it. “One second.” The ringing stopped abruptly, and Xion spoke into the item, pausing as if to listen to it speaking back. “Yeah, I’m done. Okay. See you then.” She tapped it and turned her attention back to Namine. “Sorry about that. Maybe you should call someone to let them know you’re okay? You can use my phone.”  
  
Namine eyed the thing in Xion’s hand. “I don’t think they really care if I’m well.” She rubbed her arm where a set of bruises in the shape of fingerprints was still healing under her sleeve. “Is that,” she tilted her head to indicate the object in Xion’s hands, “is that magic, too?”  
  
Xion blinked at her, then down at the thing in her hand. “I mean. Sometimes it’s _like_ magic, but you know, it’s just technology.” She glanced back up at the puzzled look on Namine’s face, and Xion’s eyes grew wide. “Oh. Oh no, there’s no way. You _have_ seen an iPhone before, right?”  
  
Namine shook her head, assuming the foreign word meant the thing Xion was holding.  
  
Xion stepped back, giving Namine her full attention. “You’re not just acting, are you, Miss Namine?” Her voice had softened, the excitement still there, but under control now.  
  
Namine wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she sighed. “Please excuse me if I am a little confused.”  
  
“Hey. Why don’t we go find a place to sit, okay?” When Namine nodded, Xion adjusted her violin across her shoulders and led the way to a covered seating area. She chose a small table and set her violin case on it, before sitting on one of the chairs; Namine hesitated, but followed suit. “So, you’re a little confused, right? So maybe it will help to think about how you got here? Sometimes my memory isn’t so great, you know? So that’s what I do.”  
  
Namine wasn’t confused, exactly. Disoriented was the word, she realized. Still, maybe telling Xion about it would help orient her. “I’m not sure how I did it, but…I had to get away. I can’t explain it very well…I fell through the wall, and I kept falling until I landed in an alley,” she glanced around, until she spotted the cluster of buildings, “over there.”  
  
Xion nodded. “You were running away?”  
  
“I can’t go back.” Namine dropped her gaze to her lap.  
  
“No one is going to make you.” Xion bit her lip. “I don’t even think we could if we tried, you know? I think you’ve come a very long way, maybe even…farther than you think?”  
  
Namine gave her a questioning look.  
  
“I mean,” Xion continued, “if you don’t know what an iPhone is, and your dress is normal for you…maybe this is a little strange, but maybe you traveled through time?” Her voice tapered off at the end, unsure.  
  
“Oh.” Namine felt her breath leave her in a rush, and she was glad she was sitting. The thought hadn’t occurred to her, but was traveling through time that much different from traveling to other worlds? Or, perhaps what she had seen in her dreams weren’t other worlds, but her own, years beyond her imagination. After a moment, she shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s strange at all.”  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments, both taking in the significance of the idea.  
  
“You must be a very powerful witch,” Xion said at last, voice full of awe.  
  
“I don’t remember doing any magic before,” Namine confessed. Then, “But I’ve had dreams. For a long time.”  
  
“Dreams are a manifestation of power, I was once told.” Xion offered a reassuring smile. “So, Miss Namine, you don’t want to go back, right? Then, do you want to stay here?”  
  
“I—I didn’t even think I’d ever have a choice for my future.” But the thought of it lifted a weight off of her shoulders that she had never known existed. “I’m not sure. Maybe?”  
  
Xion pursed her lips. “Well.” She cocked her head, thinking. “I could, you know, help you, if you want. There’s probably a lot to get used to. And you’ll need somewhere to stay, right?”  
  
Namine straightened, an involuntary recoil. Hadn’t Miss Larxene said something similar, when she’d first arrived? But Xion was different from Miss Larxene, right?  
  
Seeing Namine’s reaction, Xion waved her hands in front of her. “It’s okay, you don’t have to! Of course not! Maybe…uhm…”  
  
Namine’s fingers found the edge of her sleeve, fidgeting with it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to refuse your kindness. I…have nowhere else to go, in truth.”  
  
Xion cocked her head. “I’ve been there.” Her voice was gentle, genuine. “I was lucky to have Roxas and Axel. And it seems only right to help someone in the same situation, you know?”  
  
“That would be…that is a very generous offer. Thank you.”  
  
Xion smiled. “Of course.” She clapped her hands together. “You know, I’m hungry. Would you like something to eat?”  
  
Namine hesitated, though the mention of food had sent her stomach bubbling with hunger.  
  
Xion heard the sound and gave a small laugh. “I take that as a yes.” She stood up and collected her violin case. “There’s a lot to choose from here, but I wonder if it’s anything you’re used to. What do you usually eat?”  
  
So Namine told Xion about her typical dinner, and with a little prompting, her favorite dishes. As they walked, Xion told Namine how there were several food vendors, some more traditional food, similar to what Namine had described, and some that represented other cultures—including a tempura place, as unexpected as that was for a ren faire. That led into an explanation of what the ren fair was—interrupted by a brief explanation of paper money-and the culture surrounding ren fair as they waited for their food.  
  
Namine’s eyes grew wider the more Xion told her about the ‘modern world,’ about its clothing and about the fair—”It’s like giant theater show,” Namine murmured, to which Xion agreed. As they ate and Xion told her as much as she could think of, answering Namine’s occasional timid question, Namine began to feel more and more at ease.  
  
She would be lucky to call Xion a friend, Namine realized.  
  
They were still in conversation when a pair of young men approached them, one tall with crimson hair, and another, short and blond. Xion waved as they came nearer, with an aside to Namine, “That’s Axel and Roxas.”  
  
They both gave Xion a hug in turn, and when they greeted Namine, it was with sweeping bows; they both came off as genuine and warm, though they lacked the familiarity that Namine had felt from Xion. Perhaps it was, after all, that the two girls were witches, and these two were not.  
  
Namine was thankful for Xion’s smiling explanation of “She’s shy,” and that Axel and Roxas were content to leave Xion and Namine to their own devices on the walk to the _car_ —Namine tilted her head at the word, looking to Xion for an explanation.  
  
“Oh!” Xion pressed a hand to her mouth. “Cars! Uh…horseless carriages?”  
  
Namine cocked her head at that, smiling. “So, it wasn’t just a dream, then. They do exist?”  
  
Xion brightened. “Yeah! We kind of take it for granted, but I bet it’s probably unbelievable for you, right?” Namine nodded. But as they made their way through the rows and rows of them, she thought that, taking things for granted wasn’t that different from what she was used to in her own world—her own time, she amended.  
  
And the cars. Namine had dreamed of such things, but to actually see them? There were so many of them, still and quiet in the lot, in so many different shapes and sizes and colors. Axel’s was a red one, and though it was cramped even compared to the carriages Namine had ridden in, and even though it came to life with a strange hum, it was comfortable.  
  
Especially when cool air hit her and Xion in the back seat, and she couldn’t suppress a gasp. Xion giggled as Namine put a hand in front of the source. “Air conditioning, a modern-day marvel!” She sighed in bliss, and Namine gave a small smile at that.  
  
In addition to the cool air, the car filled with soft music, the sound of Axel and Roxas recounting their day, and Xion murmuring explanations as they drove. Namine stared as the scenery whipped by, faster than she could have ever imagined, listening until the other voices in the car drifted off, first Roxas as he slipped into a doze, and then Xion, after a low apology, until only Namine and Axel were awake. Axel’s eyes glanced back at her once, accompanied by a smile and a nod, and that was all, letting Namine gaze out the window in quiet contemplation.  
  
She was far from where she’d come from. Far away from Miss Larxene and Mister Marluxia, and the strange-yet-familiar gentleman. Farther, still, from wherever she had come from, even before that, and somehow, that gave her as much comfort as the first thought. And as their car hurtled forward, that distance grew even greater.  
  
Namine wasn’t sure about Axel and Roxas, but in their short time together, she had already come to like Xion. To trust her, as much as she was able, and by extension, to trust Xion’s confidence in the two males.  
  
She didn’t notice herself falling into her own sleep, lulled by the smooth motion of the car. Only that she was suddenly dreaming. In her dream, she saw Xion, and beyond her, Axel and Roxas, watching the sun set from somewhere high up. And as the sun faded, so did Xion.  
  
It was wrong, and yet it was necessary. Her dream told her that, and then, she saw herself, dressed in a white shift, her hands cupped around a spray of forget-me-nots. _I didn’t forget you, Xion._  
  
A gentle hand on her shoulder woke Namine, Xion’s blue eyes looking at her with concern, and then crinkling with a smile. “Namine? We’re here.”  
  
Namine followed Xion in a rustle of skirts, her eyes drawn up to the building towering above them. She spared a look back at Axel and Roxas, who had remained in the car. “Aren’t they going to escort us?”  
  
Xion glanced back. “They’ll make sure we’re in ok, but no. They know I can take care of myself.” True to her word, once Namine and Xion had stepped into the huge building, the men waved and the red car pulled away. Namine was quiet as Xion led her through the entryway, and then into a lift—she watched the numbers tick up to four. Then down a narrow hall, to a door that she unlocked herself. “This is my apartment, and you’re welcome for as long as you like.”  
  
Hours later, and Namine was still reeling. Even with Xion’s reassurance, the concept of a young, unmarried woman living alone—supporting herself, making her own decisions—was harder to believe than the rest of it. And that it wasn’t uncommon. The thought was overwhelming, and Namine wondered if she could ever be quite as strong as Xion.  
  
The thought was, somehow, familiar.  
  
And then it came crashing back, a fear of Miss Larxene and Mister Marluxia, when Xion offered her more comfortable clothing, and Namine saw again the bruises peppering her arms. She huddled in the bathroom Xion had let her change in, her own clothing shed on the floor like discarded skin, and Xion’s light, sleeveless nightdress leaving her feeling bare.  
  
There was a soft knock on the door after a while. “Miss Namine, is everything okay?”  
  
Namine stared at her discarded clothing, and with a sigh, retrieved the long-sleeved undershirt, pulling it over her head. “Yes, thank you.” She gathered the rest of the clothing in her arms and opened the door.  
  
“Did it not fit?”  
  
Namine averted her eyes. “It’s okay.” A fold of her dress came free from the bundle, causing her to stumble. Xion caught her with a hand on her arm, fingers on her bruises, and Namine winced, shying away. It was an impulse, to pull back, away from the touch, clutching her clothes closer as a shield, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Xion.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Xion didn’t pursue her, only looked at her, hands palm-up in peace. “I just wanted to help.” Her voice was a soothing murmur, with a pair of empathetic eyes to match.  
  
Namine’s lower lip trembled.  
  
She’d escaped. She’d done it, somehow, on her own power, gone to another world, another time, and she’d found someone _so kind_ , and—and—  
  
The tears began in a trickle, and Namine crumpled, her legs giving out as it turned into a full, body-wracking sob. Xion knelt beside her, quiet, and stroked her back. “It’s okay. Let it out.” And that only made her cry harder, because when had anyone ever comforted her when she cried?  
  
Later, when more time had passed, she would tell Xion everything.  
  
Later, when Xion gave her choices, let _Namine_ lead the way, let _Namine_ decide to become a part of this world, this _time_ (”Really, why wouldn’t you choose for yourself?”)—it would be frightening, yes, but oh, so freeing.  
  
And with time, she would heal.


End file.
